


To Make the Sun

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: He adores her, Phipps can see that. And while he would never begrudge his old friend a bit of happiness, he worries. After all, the woman who Grey has chosen is none other the Watchdog's bride-to-be.(“She’s gentle and strong and set in her ways. She is complex and furious and full of misplaced affection. She’s the first hour of the morning and I want her to stay that way.”)Post-Easter egg hunt.





	To Make the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenCamellia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCamellia/gifts).



"She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad." - F. Scott Fitzgerald 

 

* * *

 

“Let me ask you something,” Phipps inquired seriously, setting aside Montesquieu in favor of asking a question that had plagued him since the Easter games at Midford Manor. “Grey—“

“Listening.” Grey returned breezily. He lounged carelessly on the sofa, one arm crossed behind his head as the other held a book of poetry Phipps hadn’t seen before.

He blinked. “Are you—are you reading _Rimbaud?_ ”

“Mmh,” Grey affirmed lazily, thumb flicking to the next page. “Midford recommended it.” He nodded with a curious little half-smile on his lips. “Not half-bad. Well—for a Frenchman anyway.”

“That’s—“ Phipps began but thought better of it. “Grey.”

“Mmh?”

“Grey, do you intend to to continue this…correspondence with Lady Midford?” 

“So long as she’s entertaining.” He replied flippantly—thoughtlessly—but Phipps knew better.

Knew that his former schoolmate and oldest friend would never have made an effort to even speak to the girl had she proved to be anything less than extraordinary. Though Phipps only knew her as a young lady of effusive cheer who could wield a sword better than most knights, he also knew that the lady in question was engaged. Very much engaged—and to the Queen’s Watchdog at that. 

He stared silently at his old comrade with an expression of absolute stoicism though his eyes betrayed the pensiveness Phipps felt. The devil-may-care brashness Grey displayed often belied the true workings of his mind and heart—something Phipps witnessed first hand whenever Grey spoke of the Lady Elizabeth, whether that be in jest or reluctant admiration.

He was fond of her, Phipps knew. Far too fond.

“Answer me honestly, Grey.” Phipps voice was hard. “I know you are fully aware of the ramifications—“

“What ramifications?”

“Of continuing to spend time with the Watchdog’s fiancée.”

“They aren’t formally engaged yet, Phipps.” Grey returned lightly, with an undertone of serrated steel. His hand tightened around the slim volume. “Why do you care, hm? Trying to fish for gossip like those hawk-nosed dowagers?”

“Say what you will but I know you Grey—you care for her.” 

“Care for her? For _Midford?_ ” He side-eyed Phipps, trying his best to suppress the faint hint of color on his cheeks. “She’s a spoiled little girl who only likes sunshine and cheerfulness and beautiful things.”

“Is she?”

“She bloody is.” Grey snapped, slamming the book closed. “She’s too kind for her own good and she cares too damn much and she’s—she’s a clever little thing, Phipps. Clever and more self-aware than half the ministers we got sitting in Parliament. She’s courteous and I used to hate that—I still do—but somehow she makes it all look so _charming_ and _funny_ and she can parry better than the Knights of the Garter and—“ Grey took a breath, hand balling into a tight fist atop his stomach, “ _he doesn’t deserve her._ ”

Phipps arched a brow. “And you think you do?” He inquired sharply. “How does one deserve a woman in the first place? From what I can see Phantomhive provides for his fiancée with expert care.”

“Care?” Grey snorted, “you think he _cares?_ He buys her things because that’s all he _can_ do. He’s a sullen, selfish brat of a dog—“

“I thought you were indifferent to the earl.” Phipps interrupted, carefully watching how his friend’s expression all but contorted in annoyance.

“I still am—“ 

“No. You aren’t.”

“Does it _matter?_ ” The evening sun was beginning to turn tangerine-orange, burning through Grey’s manor and staining the whole library amber. “He wants to own her— _possess_ her—but she isn’t a _doll._ She’s—“ Grey faltered.

“She’s what?”

“She’s an _equal._ ”

Phipps blinked. “An equal?”

“Yes a bloody equal.” Grey sat up, throwing one arm over the back of the sofa though the relaxed pose looked almost predatory—as if he were resisting the urge to rise and kidnap the lady in question, to take her and hide away beneath the equator because there was so much he wanted to say, even when words seemed inadequate. “She’s gentle and strong and set in her ways. She is complex and furious and full of misplaced affection. She’s the first hour of the morning and I want her to stay that way.” He looked out the window, at the dying light and rolling hills, at the inkblots of night beginning to appear and the silence that filled the air was profound.

When Phipps spoke, his voice was low. “She belongs to someone else, Grey.”

“That’s a rather medieval view, Phipps old man. Any other debutante can belong to someone but Midford belongs to _no one._ ” He looked up. “I just have privileged rights to her.”

“She’s a Midford, Grey. She’s loyal to those she loves.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, she’s full of misplaced affection.”

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

“You think she’s happy, Phipps?” Grey challenged. “She puts on a good show but when she duels me I can see it. I can see the hurt and sadness and desperate desire to do _something—_ “

“Are you truly willing to wait for her?”

Grey shrugged. “‘Course not. You know what they say don’t you? The right girl waits for no one and I’ve never been particularly patient. She’s never had anyone fight for her but she does now. And you know me Phipps,” his friend chuckled, “I never pick up my sword for a losing cause.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- “…who only likes sunshine and cheerfulness and beautiful things.” — modified quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s debut novel, ‘This Side of Paradise’ (“You know I’m old in some ways—in others—well, I’m just a little girl. I like sunshine and pretty things and cheerfulness—and I dread responsibility.”)
> 
> \- “The right girl waits for no one…” — another quote from the pen of the glorious F. Scott Fitzgerald (“Why don’t you tell me that ‘if the girl had been worth having, she’d have waited for you’? No, sir, the girl really worth having won’t wait for anybody.”) 
> 
> A/N: Dedicated to my fellow GreyLizzy lovers rockyroadrei and queencamellia ♡


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